All Tommy wanted was some peace and quiet. Was that too much to ask for? He grunted as he leaned back into his lazy-boy chair. Cicada’s bassinet was blissfully silent.

He grinned and took a long swing of his soda before turning his attention back to the game on the television. Cicada’s mother was gone—went to the store three months ago and hadn’t returned.

The brat wouldn’t stop screaming.

The doctors said it was colic. There nothing they could do for it. A flicker of an ironic smile flashed across Tommy’s face; the brat’s colic went away on its own—only with a little bit of help from him. That showed what the doctor’s knew.

He had been so frustrated and thought that one good shake would make Cicada stop crying.

It worked.

Now, nothing could make the smell go away. Air fresheners, candles, even baking soda couldn’t even mask it anymore. Tommy had tried everything he could find to make the stench of his hidden sin go away.

Tommy stood and slowly walked over to the bassinet. He hesitated before looking down into the cradle. Tommy wept at the sight of what he did.

He sank to the floor, cradling his phone much like Cicada deserved to be cradled before finally dialing the cops. It was time to come clean.

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